


One Way to Heal

by flipflop_diva



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Maybe A Little Plot, Natasha Needs a Hug, Oral Sex, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Shower Sex, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Natasha gets injured in a mission gone wrong, Daisy has her own way of making her feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way to Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catandmouse10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catandmouse10/gifts).



> So this isn't really porn without plot, but it doesn't really have that much of a plot either, but hopefully, catandmouse10, it's something along the lines of what you were looking for. Happy Smut Swap!

It happened so fast. One minute they were creeping through an old, rickety building, drawing closer to the sole figure on their thermal tracking devices — an Inhuman, they suspected, the same one who had contacted them the day before — and the next, walls were crumbling and the air was filled with an acidic smoke that made it hard to catch a breath and they were _surrounded_. By men, too many to count, with gas masks on and guns pointed directly at their heads.

Daisy didn’t really even remember summoning her powers — but by the looks of absolute terror she saw on some of their combatants faces when she did, she realized there was one key piece of the trap-them-and-kill-them plan their enemies had completely overlooked — but that, and the fact that Captain America could take down about ten men at once with his shield and his bulk, were probably the only things that got them out alive.

Not that the other two didn’t play their part, but sometimes, being extra-human did come with benefits.

“Remind me to thank Coulson again,” Steve said to her ten minutes later over the whir of the Quinjet — Maria at the controls — as it rose into the sky. “If he hadn’t insisted you be part of all these missions, I think we’d all be dead at least twenty times over by now.”

“And to think you didn’t want me around at first,” Daisy answered back with a smile. 

A soft moan from below them stopped their banter. Both Dasiy and Steve looked down, all Daisy’s concentration again being directed at keeping her hand on the gauze she was pressing down on one Natasha Romanoff’s abdomen. The white had turned dark red more than a few minutes ago, matching the three other ones they had already discarded, and when Daisy flicked her eyes toward Natasha’s face, she could see her grimacing.

They’d all been working together for only a couple months, but it was more than enough time to figure out that Natasha didn’t normally let anyone know she was anything less than one hundred percent. Even the time she literally couldn’t walk on her right foot — Steve had finally had to sling her over his shoulder as she protested furiously — she kept insisting she was perfectly fine for their next round of combat. So to see her visibly in pain now, Daisy knew it was bad.

She pressed her hand down harder on the gauze. Steve was running his fingers over Natasha’s head, checking for a concussion. 

“Can you stop feeling me up, Rogers?” Natasha grumbled. “I don’t even have a headache.” 

Steve ignored her. “A wall fell on you,” he said. He moved his fingers to the back of her head.

“A wall almost fell on me,” she corrected. “Daisy stopped it.” She turned her head a little to the side at that, and a small smile appeared on her face. Daisy felt her cheeks grow warm, and she prayed no one actually noticed. 

Sure, she and Natasha had fooled around a few times after some of their other jobs together — it happened. Riding the high of adrenaline, needing a release — but it wasn’t something they had ever talked about the day after, and it certainly wasn’t something that should be making Daisy blush like a schoolgirl. She concentrated harder on the gauze, using it as every reason to avoid Natasha’s eyes.

Steve made a clucking sound, like a disappointed mother chick, but he didn’t reply to Natasha. Instead, he looked up. “How far to the base?” he yelled up to Maria.

“We’re not going to the base!” she called back. “We’ll be there in five!”

•••

Maria wasn’t kidding. They definitely did not go back to the base, either the Avengers’ or SHIELD’s. Instead, the Quinjet landed silently in the clearing beside a small, it-looked-like-it’d-seen-many-better-days cabin in the woods.

“They won’t find us here. It’s safe for the night. And there’s medical supplies in the kitchen,” Maria said as Steve lifted Natasha into his arms, bridal style, despite her objections.

“I can walk, Rogers.” She scowled at him.

“Humor me,” he told her.

He laid her on the kitchen table in the condo’s small kitchen, the closest thing to an examination table, while Maria went to get supplies. After warning her not to move, Steve went to find towels and a pillow for head while Daisy helped her unstrap all the weapons she had attached to her — Daisy had always thought Natasha was like a walking human armory — and pull off her catsuit. By the time Steve and Maria returned, whispering softly to each other, Natasha was clad only in her sports bra and underwear, Daisy holding a new piece of gauze to her side. Now, with her uniform out of the way, Daisy could get a better look at the gash. It was deep and long and there were definitely remnants of fragmented wood buried inside.

It was almost like a mini-operation. Daisy moved to the head of the table and held Natasha’s hand, even though Natasha didn’t ask her to — she didn’t, though, Daisy noted, try to pull away, nor did she say anything in opposition — while Steve and Maria worked as an almost seamless team to wash and clean the wound and then stitch her up, despite Natasha’s insistence that she could do it herself.

When they were done, Daisy helped Natasha sit up so she could examine Steve’s handiwork.

“It better not leave a scar,” Natasha told him, but she smiled as she said it. Steve chuckled and leaned over to ruffle her hair, earning him a mock glare. “Touch my hair again and I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

•••

The little cabin Maria had brought them to had two bedrooms and a couch that looked amazingly uncomfortable. That was the consensus after the mock operating supplies had been cleaned up and they’d actually had a look around. Steve and Maria would take one room — it wasn’t a secret that they were a couple, but it wasn’t something they broadcast either — leaving Daisy and Natasha to the other.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Daisy said once the two of them were alone. “The very shabby uncomfortable couch,” she added.

“You could,” Natasha said, “but that would be a waste of a perfectly good half of a bed. Now come on.” She slid off the table where she had still been sitting, still only in her undergarments, just a slight wince as she stood up. “You can help me shower.”

Daisy didn’t think that was supposed to have been an invitation — after all, despite her insistence that she was fine, Natasha looked utterly exhausted and Daisy could see how much energy it was taking even just to walk — but following Natasha into the bathroom, she couldn’t help her eyes from tracing the curves of Natasha’s body, every lithe muscle and soft expanse of skin on full display.

The shower was tiny, clearly meant for just one, but they’d shared smaller ones before. Daisy turned on the water and waited till it was hot. 

Natasha was leaning against the sink, a tiny grimace on her face. “Come on,” Daisy told her. “It’s ready.”

Natasha didn’t move. Daisy crossed the room toward her, stopping in front of her. “Natasha?”

Natasha didn’t answer, but her eyes scanned Daisy’s face like she was looking for something. And then she leaned forward, her lips pressing against Daisy’s, soft and gentle and full of something Daisy couldn’t quite figure out. 

“I owe you one,” she whispered as she pulled back, and then Daisy realized what it was — gratitude, vulnerability, a tiny bit of doubt that she would have been able to get herself out of that mess alive.

Daisy couldn’t help it. Every encounter they’d had before had been rough and fun and a means to an end, but this, the way Natasha was looking at her …

Daisy kissed her back, hard, insistent, like she meant it, her fingers coming up to tangle in Natasha’s red curls, still full of dirt and rock from the building collapse. Natasha met her every movement, tongues dueling together, teeth biting down gently on lower lips.

Daisy felt Natasha’s hands drop to her waist, felt her fumble for the zipper of her catsuit. Daisy stepped back, her hand covering Natasha’s as they worked together to unzip it. She let Natasha push the black leather off her shoulders and down her hips until it pooled at her feet.

It was her turn. Daisy moved forward again, her hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head as she pulled her in for a searing kiss. Then she dropped her hand, ran it down Natasha’s back, until she found the bottom of her sports bra. They broke apart so Daisy could pull the impeding garment over Natasha’s head, then she took a step back. 

Even half covered in dirt and scrapes from her ordeal, Natasha was beautiful. But the white bandage covering a huge portion of her abdomen also reminded Daisy that she was hurt.

“Shower,” Daisy managed to force out, “Now.”

She took Natasha’s hand and led her over to the small shower. Just before opening the shower door, Daisy dropped to a squat and pulled Natasha’s panties down her legs. She waited until Natasha stepped inside before shedding her own sports bra and underwear, then followed her in.

There was definitely not much room for two, but Daisy positioned Natasha so she was facing the shower wall, her forehead leaning against the tile. 

“I’ve got you,” Daisy told her. “All you have to do is remain standing.”

She began with the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into her hand before working it through Natasha’s red strands. Her hair was tangled and knotted but Daisy was gentle. She was even more gentle with the soap, using her hand to run it across every pane of Natasha’s body, cleaning away the dirt and the grime and following it up with open-mouthed kisses, along her neck, down her back, over the curve of her ass, down her legs. 

By the time Daisy stood back up and pressed herself against Natasha, she could hear her moaning, and not in a way that said she was hurting. 

She pulled away just enough to help her turn around. Natasha’s eyes were wide and bright green in the steam of the shower, her pupils dilated with lust. Daisy felt herself grow even wetter than she already was just looking at her.

She leaned in, kissed Natasha again, then pulled back to begin soaping her front half. She took her time, using her hands then her mouth to slide over her arms and her shoulders. She paid careful attention to her breasts, using one hand to brush over one as she took the other into her mouth, first sucking on her nipple, then biting down gently, making Natasha groan. 

She switched sides, giving her other breast the same treatment, before letting go completely and starting her downward descent once more. 

Natasha whimpered a little with the loss of contact, but as Daisy grabbed her hips to hold her in place, placing kisses over the edge of the band-aid, she could feel Natasha’s body growing tense beneath her touch, could hear her breaths starting to grow a little shallower. 

Finally, Daisy reached the little mound of red hair above Natasha’s legs. She pressed a kiss to her right there, then dropped her hands to Natasha’s thighs, nudging her a little so she’d spread her legs.

Natasha complied, and then Daisy was kissing down her pelvis, lower, lower, still lower, until finally her lips brushed over the sensitive flesh between Natasha’s legs.

Natasha moaned. 

Daisy stood back up, so she could kiss Natasha again, but this time she moved her hand between Natasha’s legs, began to rub her fingers back and forth. Natasha was wet, from the shower and the soap but also from her arousal. Daisy could feel her panting softly into her mouth as they kissed, could feel her breasts pressed against her own chest, could feel her body trembling just slightly as Daisy rubbed her fingers against her, back and forth, faster than slower, getting into a rhythm and then changing it as soon as Natasha caught on.

She swiped a finger over Natasha’s clit, pressed hard, and she felt Natasha jerk below her, a groan leaving her lips.

“Daisy,” she whispered, and it was the most beautiful sound Daisy had ever heard.

She dropped to her knees, put one hand on Natasha’s hips to hold her in place — Natasha was strong, but the best thing about Daisy’s powers was that now she was stronger — and leaned forward, using her lips to suck Natasha’s clit into her mouth. With her free hand, she finally slipped a finger inside, then a second and, soon after a third.

She was thrusting her fingers faster than she normally did, sucking on Natasha’s clit as hard as she could — and maybe she should have been more careful, what with Natasha’s injuries, but the hot water and the steam and the little gasps of pleasure Natasha was making, along with the way her body trembled and jerked against Daisy’s hand and mouth was almost too much. She couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, and she didn’t think Natasha did either.

She kept going, faster and faster, as Natasha’s moans somewhere above her got louder and louder. And then she twisted her wrist, curled her finger just as she bit down, and it was enough.

Natasha came with a groan, her muscles spasming around Daisy’s fingers, her body trembling. 

Somewhere in the middle of the aftershocks, Natasha’s legs gave out fully and Daisy’s hand slipped. Natasha slid down the wall, Daisy’s fingers still inside her, ending with them both in a heap on the ground, their foreheads pressed together.

Daisy waited until Natasha opened her eyes, caught her breath. She still didn’t remove her fingers.

“Did I hurt you?” Daisy whispered, a nagging worry that maybe she should have been more careful at the back of her mind. But Natasha shook her head and a smile — a real smile, one of the few real ones Daisy had ever seen — broke out across her face.

“Not even close,” she said. “And now it’s my turn.”

Daisy thought she should argue — after all, Natasha probably needed to rest — but Natasha’s knee was between her legs and her mouth was somehow already on her breast and her fingers were working their way down her sides and Daisy decided that if this was how Natasha wanted to heal, well, then who was she to stop her?


End file.
